A prize surprise

Adia had a break-through at the pediatrician's office. Maybe it was theater camp coursing through her veins. Whatever the reason, she spoke to her pediatrician today and that is the first time in the three years she's been seeing him regularly that she has done that. She still wouldn't look him in the eye, shake his hand or give him five, but she did speak to him. In fact, her talking to him got louder as the time went on.

You might call it a small victory, but the doctor went out in the hall and in his booming voice told his colleague that Adia finally talked to him. While I was chatting with the other doctor, who we don't see often any more because of her part-time work schedule but who had been the girls' regular pediatrician when both were babies, Adia was invited as a reward to go into the doctor she'd spoken to's office and select a prize from the Treasure Chest.

She was gone a long time. She is meticulous and likes to inspect the many prize choices before making up her mind. I am sure that she fingered through the various treasures and examined the details of many pieces before making her choice.

She was shyly proud as she skipped down the hall to show me her bounty. "Oh, you found yourself a little lipstick, Adia," I said. She beamed and nodded, popping then replacing the cap on her new prized possesion. I finished up chatting and then we headed off to the restroom before leaving.

"Does your lipstick have a flavor?" I asked. Silence. "Does it smell good?" She shrugged. "Well, let me see it a minute," I said. She handed the tube to me. What I found when I plucked off the cap was not a lipstick at all, but a tube shaped eraser, a pink ringed white circle with a little heart in the center.

"Oh, this is cute, honey. It's an eraser," I said. My daughter looked at me, her face stricken, and her huge brown eyes crowned with a tear that held steady just above her lower lid. I put my hand on her shoulder, "Don't cry, honey. It's okay. Are you disappointed?" She shook her head sharply and said, "No, I'm not. I'm not."

For the rest of the day I just couldn't get that heart-broken look out of my mind. Sometimes mom is such a clunker. "It's okay." No, mom, it's not. She was proud of her lipstick. That was what she wanted.

I think we'll be making a trip to the drug store for some lipstick on the way home tomorrow.